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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28459722">Love Letters</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ILoveOfficeSupplies/pseuds/ILoveOfficeSupplies'>ILoveOfficeSupplies</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bad Writing, M/M, Pining</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:41:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,510</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28459722</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ILoveOfficeSupplies/pseuds/ILoveOfficeSupplies</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Snufkin gives Moomintroll a lesson in writing</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mumintrollet | Moomintroll/Snusmumriken | Snufkin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Love Letters</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Characters are off the books</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Writing was a lot harder than Moomin thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>He had been sitting out in the grass for most of the afternoon on perhaps the most beautiful day of the year without a single poxy word to show for it - Just a horrible, blank little piece of paper which only became blanker the longer he stared at it.</p><p>
  <span>He had naively assumed that having the right feelings would have been enough and that the words would just sort themselves out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No wonder his Pappa still hadn't finished those memoirs of his if he was going at this pace. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Perhaps he was just using the wrong kind of tools as his Pappa had always used a pen, or maybe his inner Hemmingway was being blocked by other pesky thoughts that needed a good clearing out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moomin closed his eyes, pressing his paws to his temples and massaging them in small circular motions to try and get the cogs turning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Working hard I see"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scrambling about frantically to protect the paper from any prying eyes, Moomin peered above him only for his to meet Snufkin who was looking at Moomin somewhat quizzically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Moomin’s mind had wondered anywhere productive in the moments prior it certainly wasn’t anymore. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t creep up on me like that Snufkin I could have been doing anything”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Snufkin only continued to stare down at him from underneath his hat, chewing at the end of his pipe and smiling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Sorry Moomintroll it wasn't intentional"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Without waiting for an invitation, Snufkin dropped himself down between the wildflowers in a puff of grass seed beside Moomin who had doubled himself over to shield his magnum opus. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was however too late as Snufkin had definitely noticed what he was hiding under all that fur, however he had respectfully chosen not to give it much attention. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Instead, Snufkin stretched himself out longways to lie down in the long grass.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Do you need some inspiration?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moomin looked at him and then back down at the nasty bit of paper before flinging his head back with a long exasperated sigh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Writing is a lot harder than it looks" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes many things are, I guess it just takes practice" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moomin didn’t have the luxury of time to practice, he needed to be good now. He didn’t read all those stupid romance novels over the past few months for nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fat lot of use they were to him now, all they'd given him was a headache and a feeling of complete inadequacy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He rolled the pencil back and forth in his paw feeling the shape of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snufkin was clever and he had written lots to Moomin over many winters, all the letters of which Moomin had thoroughly enjoyed reading sometimes twice, three times or more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"How do you write feelings, Snufkin?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I don't really know Moomintroll, I'm not very good at writing" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Not even loving feelings?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a small pause as Snufkin exhaled a grey stream of smoke, before responding.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Not even those I’m afraid" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Snufkin had his eyes closed either because the mood had taken him or because he was trying to avoid eye contact, it was difficult for Moomin to tell. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moomin sat back to chew at the end of his pencil. Through the robust smell of tobacco smoke, the breeze had carried with it the thick smell of Yarrow which came rustling through the long grass like stream water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he looked over the grass he could see down to the little boats by the bathhouse, rocking lazily back and forth on a big sparkling blanket of ocean. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To anyone creative or otherwise it really was a beautiful picture. Any budding artist would probably be tripping over themselves to see it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just not Moomin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Snufkin however wasn't looking at any of it, happily lying about smoking and running his paws along the wild grass and hares-tails without a care in the world or a poem to write. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What about 'I enjoy your company very much'?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Snufkin said eventually, rummaging around in his pocket before trumphantally drawing his match book in order to relight his pipe. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moomin furrowed his brow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was confident Snufkin was only trying to help but that was just awful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where was the burning passion? Where was the thrill and excitement? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It sounded more like something he’d say to his Mama while helping her hang the laundry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Moomin watched as Snufkin fiddled around with the matchbook, turning it over and over in his paw. On the back of it was a very tiny and grainy looking advertisement for cigarettes which required a bit of squinting to read. </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"How about 'A smooth flavour unlike any other’”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Absolutely not!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moomin could feel himself getting red in the face although he couldn't have said exactly why. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sort of makes you want a cigarette though doesn't it?” Snufkin responded, returning the matchbook to his pocket and his attention back to doing absolutely nothing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moomin figured he’d be jolly lucky if anyone responded to his letters if he wrote them something like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If these were the suggestions he was getting he might have to ask for help from his Pappa who would probably start asking questions Moomin wasn't willing to answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moomin suspected that maybe Snufkin didn't write well at all and in reality perhaps he only enjoyed his letters because Snufkin had written them as opposed to anything else. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Undeterred, Snufkin continued </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Alright, what about 'My bounty is as boundless as the sea and my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite'"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moomin sat back to look at Snufkin lying in the grass covered in yellow pollen, slightly stunned that something so eloquent could follow two such stupid suggestions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Wow Snufkin that was really beautiful"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Thank your Pappa, I heard him saying it to your Mamma out on the veranda a few days ago, but I suspect he nicked it from someone else I reckon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anyway it shouldn't really matter as long as you mean it, right?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I guess so.." </span>
</p><p><span>Moomin didn't feel it very hones</span>t to include something he hadn't written himself, moreso if someone else had already said it. </p><p>
  <span>He may have almost considered includng it but it would have been so painfully obvious it wasn't him, nor could he divorce the idea that it was almost like writing a love letter to his Mama. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All of Snufkin's suggestions were just making it harder to write anything at all, terrible or not, which didn't go unnoticed. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want me to look away Moomintroll?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“... Yes please”</span>
</p><p>Moomin felt a little guilty for agreeing but then again Snufkin shouldn't have suggested it if he thought it offensive, although knowing Snufkin he very likely didn't.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Without saying anything further Snufkin obediently rolled over in the grass, almost entirely yellow at this point, before covering his face with his hat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two of them sat out in the wildflowers for the remainder of the afternoon until the sky had turned pink and Moomin could see his Mama out on the veranda setting the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon it would be so dark he wouldn't be able to carry on even if he wanted to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Writing was awful, why did anyone do it? This would likely be his first and last love letter to anyone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He held up the paper examining it closely before defeatedly dropping it into his lap. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I think I'm finished" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You don't sound very confident about that"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snufkin was right, he wasn’t. What he had written in his eyes was juvenile at best and humiliating at worst. Either way it would have to do. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Snufkin sat up to dust off his hat before returning it to its rightful place on top of his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So when are you going to send it?" He asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I don't know, maybe never - I don't know if it's fair to subject someone to reading this" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Snufkin just laughed, resting a reassuring paw on Moomins fluffy shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As long as you put your heart into it, it could never be bad”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Snufkin helped haul Moomin up off of the ground as they both looked in the direction of the increasingly filling dinner table on the veranda. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I better get going Moomintroll - beans don't cook themselves”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moomin just nodded in agreement as he waved Snufkin off through the grass and towards his tent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He should have really invited him for dinner but he didn't fancy risking any uncomfortable conversations. Poor Snufkin had been exposed to enough of his nonsense for one day. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It must have been around midnight as the moon was full and the air warm, which was to Snufkin the perfect time to be smoking in complete solitude. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached into his pocket for his pipe and into the other for the matchbook only for a crumpled, sweaty looking paper to fall out with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Opening it and ironing out the creases against his leg with the base of his fist he read the first wonky looking line. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>'Snufkin, I enjoy your company very much..'</span>
</p>
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